The Prettiest Woman

Interviewing my Grandpa every Tuesday morning for this new novel.
 
I thought he was ornery. I thought my brother and I were ornery. I thought my father was ornery.
 
But apparently we’re in the minor leagues beside my great-great grandpa who once told a widower he could order a new wife out of a Sears and Roebuck catalogue if he wrote the company a letter. Once the letter was written, great-great grandpa dressed up one of the younger men as a chained up and dolled up woman. And when the poor widower went to load up their luggage for the honeymoon, the young man in disguise whipped the horses and drove away.
 
“I don’t understand,” my great-great grandpa’s widower friend said in the wake of the dust. “She was just the prettiest woman I ever did see. Why wouldn’t she want to be with me?”
 
Yes, I look forward to Tuesdays. And to the resulting novel, for better or worse.
READ NEXT:  Writer Vices

Your comments matter more than my posts ::

%d bloggers like this: